


Strangers

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7913848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of teamfreewillinagines': Imagine being Sam’s girlfriend/unofficial wife and being confused as to why he doesn’t seem to care about you when he comes back from the cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers

You wake up and bolt out of bed. Today Sam is coming back! It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, a week before he went into the cage, and finally they are coming to your neck of the woods. You hear the Impala roll into your driveway. The engine cuts just as you finish tidying, actually shoving, all the clutter in your house. As a hunter things tend to pile up and this is definitely not the time for that. With your lore books haphazardly restocked onto your bookshelf Dean knocks on your door. You enthusiastically open the door and are greeted with a bear hug. Dean’s stubble scratches your cheeks and his plaid shirt is soft against your short-sleeved arms. Sam hangs behind his eyes warily observing you. You go to hug Sam and he backs away. It feels like a stab in the gut but you chalk it up to it being so long since you’ve  last seen Sam. 

 

Dean grabs your arm and whispers in your ear, “Don’t mind him. He’s been acting a little off for a while.” 

 

You nod but it still bothers you. The calculating way Sam looks at you is something you've only seen when he is deep into a case. You take one final look at Sam out of the corner of your eye before heading back into your house. You share stories with Dean while Sam impatiently waits to get down to business. Finally, he's had enough. 

 

“Okay ladies. Can we get to work or are you going to join a knitting circle?” Sam’s tone is sarcastic and gruff. Once again he catches you off guard. You share a quick look with Dean before heading off to grab the files you've collected on your latest case. 

 

When you return, arms filled with news articles and webpages of possible monsters, common and rare, you hear a tiny bit of the brothers’ conversation. 

 

“Cut it out, Sam.” Dean is short with him, keeping his voice hushed so that you wouldn't hear. 

 

“Why? You guys were wasting time and we've got things that are more important than helping some kid with her work. She's a hunter; she can handle herself.” Sam leans back in your couch, the frame groans with every shift. 

 

Before the argument continues you come out from behind the corner. Everything is layed out. The killings of women of various ages, ethnicities, and jobs has been only getting more gruesome. It has been sporadic, sometimes twice in few hours, that getting a suspect has been hard for police on such a tight deadline. But it always is on the same road. Hillcreek. 

 

As of now there are too many questions and not nearly enough visible evidence to figure out what this is. But one thing is for sure- it's not human. The time frame, over the course of two weeks, is really sudden when compared to the severity of each murder. All the likely suspects are long dead, each dying exactly the same way. Their hearts have been ripped out along with their lungs. 

 

“Okay, we head out in an hour. I'm just gonna get my stuff ready and we can head out. Traffic will be hell by six.” 

 

The car is packed and the cracked road flows under the Impala. Other than the sound of melding music on the radio the ride is silent. Dean is stiff in his seat while Sam lounges in the front seat reading who knows what. The last time you remember being this tense was when you first meet Sam at a bar in Louisiana. 

 

He was seating at the end of the bar, talking with Dean who was chatting up the bartender. Sam would smile and chuckle under his breath every time he took a sip of his beer. He watched in mock disbelief at how the bartender crumbled with every slick word that fell out of Dean's mouth. Your friend jabs you in the side and nods in Sam’s direction. Kembly could see you stealing glances in Sam’s direction tactlessly. 

 

“I’m leaving if you don’t go over there and get it over with.” Her husky voice cracks at the end as she throws back her shot of tequila. You can never understand just how her liver keeps up with her daily alcohol intake but hey, it just means you don’t have to watch out for a drunk friend who insists they can drink more and then throws up all over the bar. 

 

“Get what over with?” You glance at Sam out of the corner of your eye and see him look at you. Embarrassed, you turn back to Kembly as you clutch at your half empty beer bottle. 

 

“Talk to him before I drag him over here.” Kembly shoves you to the side sending your chair and you to the floor. 

 

The brothers, and nearly every other patron, turns to look at you. Sam gives you a hand and you turn to tell Kembly off but you see her disappear through the saloon doors before you can say anything.

 

“Thanks, I just lost my balance..” You move to leave but Sam holds you in place. “Yes?” A chill runs through your spine thinking that maybe this handsome man isn’t as shy as he seems. His grip is firm. 

 

“Your..your dress is...ripped.” 

 

Up to the very top of your thighs the dress has torn. The edge had gotten caught on the clasp of your hanging purse and snagged. Once you feel and then stood up the tiny tear grew until you can barely stand straight without exposing your ass to everyone. Sam offered his suit jacket as he walked you to your car. Along the way he explained that he was an FBI agent investigating the odd deaths that were happening. He asked if you knew any of the victims but their names didn't ring any bells. Quite frankly, you didn't pay a lot of attention after that. You kept looking at his smile as he spoke. 

 

Sam's case reached a little too close to home. Kembly was the target of a vengeful werewolf who felt her and all of her previous co-workers were the reason he ended falling on hard times. The brothers discovered the two of you tied to the rafters of the werewolfs cottage. After that, you naturally started getting involved in the hunting life. Catching short cases here and there before you gave up your mundane office life to travel all over the US. It was risky but it paid off in the end. You and the Winchesters worked multiple times over the course of a couple years and you started dating Sam not long after. But this case, this Sam, is anything other than the usual. That became undeniable when Sam did the unforgivable. 

 

Sam watches like he's seeing a movie play out on the screen as the shapeshifter takes on your form. It mimics your fighting style, your voice, everything. Dean tries to help but as he strikes the shapeshifter he can't continue. It looks too much like you and acts the same. He doesn't want to end up hurting, or even killing, the wrong you. A repetitive dance of attacks failing and shifting advantage starts to take its toll. Your arms are sore and heavy while you core can't stand to take another hit. You know neither of them can help because even if you say it's you how would the Winchesters know? Its been months since they last meet you and weeks since this shapeshifter started studying you. 

 

Apparently tired of the show, Sam stabs the shapeshifter through the heart with a silver blade as you have them pinned to the ground in a moment they lost balance. 

 

You stare in awe and disgust at Sam. “How'd you know that wasn't me?”

 

Sam simply shrugs his shoulders and says indignantly, “I didn't. It was a fifty-fifty chance so I went for the one that was losing.”

 

Incredulous you don't respond but Dean does. He pulls Sam aside and the two start arguing again in hushed tones. You can't believe that your life came down to an even split. If Sam had chosen to stab you instead you wonder if he would have even cared. His current unapologetic rationalisation to Dean of the merit of ending the fight quickly tells you he wouldn’t. It would have just been business- the nature of the gig. And that makes you feel nauseous. Whoever that man was, he wasn't the Winchester that you fell in love with. 

 

You and the boys part ways without much goodbye. Dean profusely apologies for his brother but you barely hear it. And just like that, the boys disappear past county lines towards some new mystery. But you can't get Sam's face out of your head. His tiny smirk and jubilant eyes are burnt into your memory. That's all you can see even when a downtrodden Sam shows up again six months later. 

 

“Y/N, I'm so sorry. Please, let me explain.” he gives you his famous puppy eyes and you let him inside. 

 

It's been eating away at you as you ran through every reason why Sam would risk killing you. So, you listen silently as Sam explains his behaviour as being a side effect of losing his soul in the cage. The pieces started to fall in place. When the explanation ends Sam looks at you expectantly. 

 

“Thanks, for telling me.” Sam raises his eyebrows and waits for more but you say nothing else. 

 

“So? Do you forgive me?” You want to. You want to be able to look at Sam and not feel disgusted but that's all you feel. Disgust and betrayal. 

 

You can't separate the two Sams. They share the same face and voice. All you see is soulless Sam even though the emotionless cruelty is absent from him now. It just won't go away. 

 

“I can’t, I want to, but I cant, Sam. I look at you and I see  _ him.  _ I hear you and I hear  _ him.  _ I knew something by was wrong back then but even knowing the reason doesn't change that. I can't trust you.” With every word you see Sam's face crumble. The finality that both of you were expecting this discussion to bring is much heavier than you imagined. 

 

For a moment you both sit in silence, letting that weight wash over you. Both of you want to reach out to each other but neither feel secure enough that it won't bring more hurt in the end. Ultimately, you lead Sam out and watch as he drives off in a rusted Volkswagen bug. You awkwardly wave before heading back inside. You slump into your wall and Sam does the same in his car seat. Your chapter together has ended more bitterly than either of you imagined and that still is registering. But eventually it becomes normal. 

 

You no longer think of Sam when you hunt and neither does he. Less things remind you of the other until, finally, you see each other again. Years have changed the both of you to the point where you barely recognize each other. A quick knowing glance is shared as you pass each other. Neither reaches or calls out. There is a dull ache deep in your hearts but it passes much more quickly, almost as if it never happened. 

  
Just two strangers walking down a crowded sidewalk. Their ties to each other cut and their lives heading in infinitely different directions. Just two strangers walking past each other on a crowded sidewalk amongst other strangers, only to remember each other's faces in the dreams they forget once they wake. 


End file.
